Worse than Being Burned
by Skye Silverwing
Summary: Michael Weston used to be a spy until he got burned. He followed the lead to the men who burned him, he followed their lead and found a member of a criminal organization. Now Micheal learns that there are worse things than being burned.
1. Chapter 1

Worse than Being Burned

By Skye Silverwing

Disclaimer: You all know how it goes. I don't own it.

_My name is Michael Weston. I used to be a Spy until…_

"We got a Burn Notice on you. You're blacklisted."

_When you're Burned, you've got nothing. No cash, no credit, no job history. _

_You're stuck in whatever city they decide to dump you in._

_You do whatever work comes your way. _

_You rely on anyone who's still talking to you: _

_A trigger-happy ex-girlfriend. _

_An old friend old friend who used to inform on you to the FBI. _

_Family too, if you're desperate._

_Bottom line, as long as you're burned, you're not going anywhere._

.o0o. .o0o. .o0o. .o0o. .o0o.

_Some days you have to wonder if the position you are in is the worst you can be in. Fact is, whether you are a soldier captured by enemy forces, or a Burned Spy in Miami without much of anything, the answer is almost always no: It can always get worse._

In reality, it was one of the better days Michael had had since he got burned. He and his old buddy, Sam Axe, had just captured the assassin who had been going by the name of Kendra. Kendra had killed the previous lead to the identity of a mysterious group that was profiting from wars, assassinations, and criminal action the world over.

As they stuffed her into the trunk, they discussed the best ways to interrogate her and learn what they needed to know. Kendra was a hardened killer, and that meant that breaking through her defenses was going to prove difficult even for a former SEAL and a burned spy.

Sam looked at Michael. "Maybe we should get Fiona in on this." He suggested, "You know how much she loves to interrogate the women you flirt with."

Mike gave Sam a withering look. "That could work, except that we want Kendra talking, not dead." He replied, recalling the look Fiona had given him when he had last spoken with Kendra. "Fi is probably not the person for this kind of situation. She would be a little… overly enthusiastic. "

Sam sighed. "I suppose it is just you, me, and Jesse, then." He said with a sigh, "Anyway, I've gotta get back. My Lady friend is starting to wonder if I'm not out spending time with another woman. Can you handle setting her up alone?"

Michael nodded. "I think I can handle one unconscious and unarmed woman, Sam." He said, "Though tell Jesse and Fi to come help me secure the location. Kendra's employers are not going to be happy about her capture."

.o0o. .o0o. .o0o. .o0o. .o0o.

On the top of a nearby building, a man looked through the sight of his rifle, watching the charger pull away from the docks. Pulling a cell phone, he dialed the number from memory. A few rings later, there was a click on the other end of the line, the only indication that someone had picked up.

A sinister smile spread across the man's face. "This is Gin." He said, "Vermouth has been captured. It seems that this 'Michael Weston' is more skilled than we had first guessed."

There was a moment of silence. "Get her back." Said the voice on the other end of the line, "And then deal with Mr. Weston."

Gin smiled evilly. "Of course, Boss." He replied.

.o0o. .o0o. .o0o. .o0o. .o0o.

_When you are a spy, you learn to look for the subtle clues that indicate that someone is following you. However, such skills are not necessary when a tail decides to dispense with all subtlety. Fortunately, Spies also learn to drive when Maniacs want to run them off the road._

Michael had just dropped Sam off when he noticed the black Porsche tailing him. The vehicles windows were tinted, and it was coming up on him fast. At first he expected that the other driver was trying to scare him, but then he noticed the Porsche's reinforced bumper.

Michael braced himself as the Porsche impacted the rear of the charger, causing it to accelerate and skid wildly. Pulling his phone, Mike hit the speed dial as he fought to maintain control. The tires squealed as he made a sharp turn in an attempt to lose the Porsche, but whoever was driving it, they were good.

The phone rang twice and then picked up. "Hello?" the female voice on the other end answered.

Michael drifted a corner at breakneck speed and barely missed two parked cars and a group of trashcans. The Porsche misjudged the distance and ruined both cars' sides, but kept following. "Fi!" he shouted, "Looks like the meeting was observed by Kendra's employers. They caught up just after I dropped off Sam, and I need help! I am at-"

He cut off when he heard the tell-tale sound of a cell phone jammer cutting off his signal. "Terrific." He muttered, heading into a residential area. The Porsche was repeatedly impacting his rear bumper, forcing him to go faster. His mind raced. There had to be a way out of this.

Suddenly, a bright red ball bounced out in the road ahead of him, followed by a young girl maybe five or six years old.

_No amount of training can prepare you for when you have a split second to choose between yourself and the life of a child. One can hope, though, that you make the right choice._

Michael cranked the wheel hard to the side and slammed on the brakes, sending the car into a skid just as the Porsche impacted it again, tapping the other car's font with just enough force to cause both vehicles to lose control and spin off either side of the road, the Porsche plowed through an empty yard while the Charger struck a utility pole in excess of forty miles per hour.

Michael had his seatbelt on, but his head slammed hard into the steering wheel, causing him to see stars, and likely giving him a concussion. As he blearily and helplessly watched his attacker approach, he vaguely wondered if the man was going to execute him here, or if there was some way out of this.

The man produced a container, and what seemed to be a flask. "You picked a miserable place to die, Mr. Weston," the man said, "too many witnesses to just shoot you, so this poison will have to do." With that, he stuck a pill from the container into Michael's mouth and followed it with water from the flask, forcing him to swallow.

Then, he pulled the trunk release and moved to the back of the car. "Vermouth," he said in Japanese, "I don't know why the boss is so determined that we get you back." Then, he hoisted the unconscious woman out of the trunk and carried her back to the Porsche.

Michael stared blearily after them, cursing his inability to move. A few moments later, his world exploded into pain and then sank into darkness.

.o0o. .o0o. .o0o. .o0o. .o0o.

Fiona and Jesse blew three red lights as they followed the route Mike was supposed to take trying to locate him. Jesse was trying to raise Michael on his phone while Fiona drove and scoured the area.

_When something comes along that causes a fair amount of disruption from the normal way of things, it will always leave traces behind: fresh skid marks, sideswiped parked cars, and the "Dodged the Bullet" look on bystanders' faces. If you know what to look for, it amounts to a trail a mile wide._

Fiona spotted the skid marks on the road, taking the corner slower so that she would not draw too much attention in her stolen car. Then she spotted the scraped up cars, which lead her onto a residential street. Several blocks later, Fiona's heart skipped a beat when she saw the charger smashed on the utility pole.

Most of the bystanders were keeping back, maintaining their distance against the possibility of the car exploding. They were waiting for police and EMTs, but for some reason, none had arrived yet.

Getting out of the car, the pair ran over to the charger. Fiona growled as she noted the open and empty trunk. "Remind me to kill Kendra if I ever see her again." She said as Jesse reached the driver's side of the car and stopped.

Jesse looked into the driver's seat and then looked back at Fi. "Mike isn't here." He said, "But… Who is this kid?"

Fiona stopped beside him, and sure enough a child no older than six was strapped in the front seat.

_When you are a Spy, you get used to handling unexpected situations. You prepare for any contingency you can think of and you hope that things don't go bad. When things do go bad, you hope that they get better before they get worse. Sometimes though, things just get worse._

.o0o. .o0o. .o0o. .o0o. .o0o. .o0o. .o0o.

A. N. Honestly, I don't really intend to continue this fiction. I might, but I just wrote it because Burn Notice and Detective Conan seem like they would click, and no one had done it yet. In any case, I not the kind of guy to leave people hanging. Anyone who wants to use this story as the springboard for their own fic, I invite you to do so. I simply request that you send me a message letting me know about it, and leave my name on the part I wrote. I deliberately did not put it in any specific point on the Detective Conan Timeline, so that can be up to anyone that wants to take it over.


	2. Chapter 2

Worse than Being Burned

By Skye Silverwing

Disclaimer: If you recognize a character, it probably belongs to someone else.

Chapter 2: A Bad Day.

_When you find yourself waking up in a familiar location after a traumatic event, it is very important to be able to quickly take stock of changes that may impact your situation. Presence of unfamiliar people or items can be a clue that something is wrong. Even more than that, though, is when even the familiar things are wrong._

Michael awoke to a throbbing headache and bleary eyesight. Above him, he saw the familiar ceiling of the loft. Something was wrong, though. The ceiling seemed too far away. As he turned his head, he saw the rest of his loft, and the strange feeling increased. Everything seemed out of place, oversized.

Hearing footsteps coming up the stairs outside, Michael decided to pretend to be asleep, hoping to get a drop on whoever was coming. A few moments later, he heard a key in the lock and the voice of his boisterous old buddy, Sam Axe.

"I don't know, guys, I talked to some of my buddies, but nobody seems to know where he could have been taken." Sam was saying, "I can certainly tell you that Kendra's friends are well connected. There was no indication that they were ever in Miami, let alone an indication of when they left."

Fiona sighed as she and Jesse followed Sam through the door. "I suppose that means that the kid is our only lead for finding him." She said.

Jesse sighed as well. "Yeah, it still doesn't make sense, though." He said, "Why would these bad guys wreck his car and then take him, leaving this kid behind?"

Michael opened his eyes, curious, only to see Fiona staring back at him.

Fiona glanced at her companions, and nodded to the bed. "Maybe we should ask him, then." She said, stepping over to the bed and sitting on it. "Hey, there, sweetie, we know you must be confused, but we need to ask you some questions."

Michael's brow furrowed. "Fi…" he said, "What the hell happened?"

A flash of confusion crossed the former IRA agent's face, and she looked between him and her companions. "How did you know my name?" she asked, casting accusing glares at Sam and Jesse, one of whom must have spoken with him without her knowledge.

Michael raised one eyebrow. "Why wouldn't I know your name, Fi?" he asked, trying to reconcile what had happened. "We have known each other for years."

Confusion played across Fiona's features, so Michael shifted his attention to the other two people in the room. "Sam. Jesse." He said, locking eyes with each of them as he shifted toward the edge of the unusually oversized bed. "What is going on?"

Sam and Jesse looked at each other, both seeming as confused as Fiona.

Sam adopted the smile Michael had seen him wear on several occasions when he had been trying to keep someone from panicking in light of the realities of the life of a former Spy. "We found you in the driver's seat of the wrecked car of a friend of ours." He said in his most reassuring voice. "A guy named Michael Weston. We are just wanting to know if you know where he is."

Michael raised one eyebrow. "Umm… I am right here, Sam. I _am_ Michael Weston." He said, "Why would you…" He trailed off as his eyes fell upon the mirror on the wall. In the mirror, sitting on the bed staring straight back at him with wide eyes was a small boy that looked exactly like him when he was a child. "Oh."

.o0o. .o0o. .o0o. .o0o. .o0o.

_Spies don't like to be compromised, but when you are in a situation where even your own teammates can't tell for sure who you are, sometimes you have to call in someone who can._

Madeline Weston was concerned. First Fiona had called her asking her if she had seen or heard from Michael, and now she had been called by Sam to come to Michael's loft "to clear something up."

Never a good sign.

Maddie knocked on the door to the loft and Fiona answered. "Maddie, it is good that you are here." The former IRA agent said, "Maybe now we can get to the bottom of this."

Maddie looked the girl up and down; she had a little hint of concern about her that did not bode well for this instance. "Fiona, I came right over as quickly as I could." She said, "What did you…" her words trailed off as she spotted Sam and Jesse and a small boy. She looked closer at the boy and realized that he was the spitting image of… "Michael?"

Fiona moved quickly to the older woman's side as she wavered and fainted, catching her as she fell and lowering her gently to the floor. She then looked up at Sam, and then Jesse, and then the boy that they had just confirmed to be Michael.

Michael looked back at her. "Is that proof enough for you?" he asked.

.o0o. .o0o. .o0o. .o0o. .o0o.

Sam had an uncomfortable look on his face as he held out the file to the miniature version of his best friend. "I don't like it, Mike." He said, "I tapped out all my best sources in the FBI, and the moment I gave them that name you gave me, and they all clammed up. It's like her employers have the whole Bureau spooked. The little that I did get is that Vermouth is not the kind of name you want to bring up in polite conversation, if you get my drift."

Michael nodded and looked through the file and held up a page. "What about this guy?" he said, reading the name off of it. "Agent… Black? The Bureau isn't as creative with its Codenames as it used to be."

Sam Chuckled. "Yeah, ain't that the truth." He replied, "Black was the head of the investigation into a crime syndicate based in Japan, until a few months ago, then he just vanished, supposedly on vacation. I'm thinking deep cover overseas. The kind of thing you don't tell anyone for fear of causing an international incident."

Michael nodded. "I agree." He said, "I think Black is our best bet for information. If he is on a deep-cover op, it will give us some leverage since he won't want the Japanese government snooping around his project."

Sam nodded as Fiona and Jesse returned, take-out in hand. "Anyway, by all accounts this 'Agent Black' is vacationing in Japan right now, and since he is likely deep cover, the only way we can get to him without blowing his cover is to go there and confront him directly." Sam summed it up, "Problem is, while getting into Japan shouldn't be a problem, financing the trip, lodging and the investigation is not going to be easy."

Fiona smiled and stepped forward, handing Sam one of the bags of food. "Actually, I have a lovely little flat in Tokyo, along with a sizable nest egg in Yen from a series of jobs I did for a Yakuza group a few years back." She said brightly. "And if I renew some of my old contacts, we can set up and do jobs like we do here."

Michael nodded. "I have some Yen in Japan as well." He said, "Though the last time that I had dealings with the Yakuza, let's just say Michael Weston's head is worth more in Japan detached from the body."

Fiona nodded. "Fortunately, you have an excellent cover." She said, setting a kid's meal in front of him, her eyes shining with mirth.

Michael looked at the colorful box, and turned to glare at his erstwhile girlfriend. "Fi…" he growled, fixing her with his best scowl. Unfortunately, the effect was entirely destroyed by his child-like face, so it only resulted in Jesse and Sam both cracking up laughing.

Michael turned his glare on Sam and Jesse, only causing them to laugh harder. Even Fiona started to giggle, and then she sighed. "I am sorry, Michael," She said her voice full of mirth, "It's just that you are far too cute to pull off that scowl."

Michael sighed, and opened the kid's meal, brightening slightly when he saw that it came with a yogurt.

Sam got a little more serious. "So, Mike, have you given any thought as to what your cover ID is going to be?" he asked.

Michael nodded. "I was actually thinking about Benson Kingsley." He said.

Jesse cocked his head. "Benson Kingsley?" he asked, "Where did you get that?"

Mike chuckled. "Never mind." He said, then he looked at Sam and Fiona. "Alright, so we are going to Japan. Honestly, if I could do this on my own, I would. Unfortunately, given my current state, I will have very little in the way of freedom of movement there, so Fi, Sam, I need you both on this one."

Sam frowned. "I don't know Mike, my lady friend is already telling me that she thinks I am spending little time with her, and now you want me to skip the country?" he said.

Mike looked up at his friend. "Sam, you are the only one that can get us in contact with Black and his team." He said, "We need you there. Besides, a lone woman with a child in Tokyo is not the best cover."

Sam frowned, but Fiona beat him to the punch. "You cannot be serious, Michael!" She said, "I am not pretending to be married to Sam again!"

Michael waved his hands placating. "It is only for the cover, Fi." He said, "You will only be pretending to be together while we are investigating."

Jesse stepped forward. "Yeah, this is all well and good, Mike," he said, "but what am I supposed to be doing while you guys are in Japan? Japanese is one of the Languages I never really needed to learn, and while you might be considered dead or missing, I am still a burned spy, very much on the grid. Not going anywhere."

"Which is why you will be staying here." Mike replied, "After all, I'll need someone to look after my mom, and with me gone, Vaan is likely to be out looking for a new 'friend'. And he likes burned spies, which is why he had us both burned."

Jesse's eyes widened. "He is the one who burned me?" he asked, "And you knew about it?"

_Spies keep secrets, like other men keep photographs. Some big, some small. Some important, some not. Some mundane, some potentially dangerous. Finding and keeping secrets is what spies do, but sometimes, there is nothing to do but lay out all that you know and hope that it doesn't blow up in your face._

Michael sighed. "I spent the better part of a year trying to root out Vaan and his associates after they burned me." He said, "He turned it around on me and used me to burn you. I've been working to find a way to turn it against him and his shady government organization and get us both back in."

A look of betrayal crossed Jesse's face. "You were the one who burned me?" he demanded, he took a step toward the tiny former spy and then stopped, reconsidering. "I suppose this 'Vaan' will be the one who gets my attention for now, Mike, but know this: When you get back your old body, we are going to settle up on this one. Understood?"

Michael nodded, knowing full well that the "settling up" was most likely going to result in one of their deaths. For now, though, Jesse was going to play ball, for the same reason they all did. This mysterious crime syndicate was too big for any of them to ignore. It was bigger than any of their issues, and that meant doing all they could to put it right as soon as possible, before anyone else got killed.

.o0o. .o0o. .o0o. .o0o. .o0o.

Vermouth stared in horror at the report in her hands.

She had only just returned from her embarrassing episode in Miami and was beginning to wade through the long list of field reports that were her punishment for her failure. She had supposed that it was better than a bullet in the back of her head, which would have been the way of things if Gin had had his way. She had avoided that only because the Boss had declared that she was still too great an asset to the Organization, even after her failure. The paperwork was a far less painful punishment.

Or so she thought, until she had stumbled upon that report, the familiar name staring up at her like a deadly cobra. Tears threatened to well up in her eyes, but she ruthlessly suppressed them. She could not let the men tasked with guarding this room see her weakness. After all, the organization destroys all those that could slow it down.

There would be time for tears later. Now she had some digging to do. She shifted the stacks of the organization's most classified files, sparing only the slightest of attentions to each. It took her a few minutes, but she found a second file. It confirmed her fears.

Nodding to herself, she determined to look into the matter personally. She stood, nodded to the guards, and left quickly.

Behind her, the pair of files lay haphazardly atop the stack. Emblazoned across the first were the words "Akemi Miyano: Status: Terminated."

The second similarly declared "Shiho Miyano: Status: Missing. Standing order, locate and terminate on sight."

.o0o. .o0o. .o0o. .o0o. .o0o. .o0o. .o0o.

A.N. Okay so it is shorter than the first Chapter and it took a long time for me to do, but in my defense, I really had no intention of continuing it at all. Sadly, no one actually took me up on my offer to continue it for me, so I felt I needed to do it.

In any case, a fictional cookie for anyone who can figure out how I came up with Michael's "Benson Kingsley" cover I.D.

As always, I like constructive criticism.


End file.
